


Protect and Serve

by petersnotkingyet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Dead Dean, Foster Care, Minor Violence, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Weechesters, Young Sam, character death doesn't take place in the story, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is a foster kid with a dead brother and an issue with law enforcement.  Officer Frank Riley is about to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protect and Serve

They busted the house on a Thursday afternoon in March. At first glance, it looked normal enough. There was a TV tuned into a basketball game in the living room, a dog chained in the postcard-sized backyard, and three foster kids sharing a bedroom down the hall. It wasn’t the happiest scene, but it was nothing Officer Riley hadn’t seen a thousand times. Then the officers went down to the basement, which was full of meth, and that was that.

While the arrests were made, Officer Riley was tasked with driving the kids back to the station and making a call to CPS. All three were boys, the oldest fifteen and the youngest seven. Those two clamored into the back of the squad car without complaint, but the eleven year old practically had to be dragged outside. Even then, it took ten minutes to pry his hands off of the gate and force him into the car.

“I get it,” Officer Riley said as he drove, trying to be friendly. He was addressing all the boys, but it was clear that his message was for the middle one. “I know you don’t want to leave the Morgans, but I’ve got to do my job.”

The eleven year old ignored him, but the oldest boy snorted. “Sam doesn’t give a rat’s ass about them,” the oldest boy said. “He just hates cops.”

“Yeah?” Riley asked. “How come?”

Sam didn’t answer, but Officer Riley let it drop, figuring police officers had been involved in removing him from his biological family. Plenty of foster kids had issues with cops, and trying to drag the reason this time out of Sam wasn’t worth the trouble.

When they arrived at the police station, Sam got out of the car without a fight. He went into the building dragging his feet and scarcely left his chair for the six hours it took for CPS to find an emergency placement. Once someone finally showed up to take them to someone who hopefully wasn’t making meth in their basement, Sam couldn’t get out of their fast enough.

“Bye, boys,” Officer Riley said as they left. None of them seemed to be particularly fond of him, but being decent to kids never hurt anybody. Hell, it might even do him some good once those boys grew up.

The next time the police officer saw Sam Winchester was in early August. Sam was twelve now and still in foster care. This time he was the one being arrested.

“I remember you,” Officer Riley said to Sam was they waited for his foster mother to come pick him up. The preteen was young enough and charming enough to be let off with a small fine. His foster parents wouldn’t be too happy about having to pay for one of a police car’s doors to be repainted, but it was better than putting a twelve year old in juvie. “You held onto the fence and hated cops in March.”

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled.

“Judging from what you did to Richardson’s car, I’d guess that’s still true,” Riley stated. Sam just shrugged. “Listen, kid. I get it. You’re in a shitty situation, and taking it out on something makes you feel better. But you’re only making things harder for yourself, Sammy, and-”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam snapped. “It’s Sam. You don’t get to call me that.”

Officer Riley held his hands up in a passive gesture. “Sure thing, kid,” he said. Sam looked a little embarrassed about lashing out. For all the trouble he’d caused, the preteen seemed like a good kid.

“I…” he trailed. “That’s what my brother would call me.”

“You have a brother?” Riley asked. That was the only personal information Sam had given him in the hours they spent waiting for someone to pick him up.

“Yeah—Dean,” Sam said, and no one spoke again until Sam’s foster mother arrived.

It was January and Sam was thirteen the next time he and Officer Riley interacted. The police officer was on patrol when he saw a brawl going on between several young boys. With a sigh, Riley clamored out of his squad car and headed to break up the fight.

“Cop!” one of them shouted before taking off and sprinting down the street. Most of the others followed suit, but the two boys who’d been at the heart of the fight stayed put. A lean ginger boy who looked about fourteen was trying to pull away, but a brunette boy had him by the jacket with one hand and was using to other to bash in his nose.

“Sam Winchester,” Riley grunted, recognizing the teenager. Hearing his name was enough to surprise him, and the ginger boy wrenched himself away and took off down the street. Sam tried to do the same, but Riley had caught up quickly and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Sam spat. “Take me to the fucking station again. I don’t even care if I get kicked out of another damn house! I hate the Carsons!”

Officer Riley felt a little bit guilty as he put together what had happened with the foster family Sam was with when he keyed a police car. “Come with me,” Riley said, letting go of Sam’s shoulder. He didn’t bother making sure that Sam was following him. They both knew how easy it would be for Riley to track Sam down again if he wanted to. After a little bit of lingering, Sam joined to police officer on the bench.

“What was that about?” Riley asked. “I know we’ve only met a few times, but fistfights aren’t your style.”

Sam was quiet for a long time. His hands were held together between his bony knees, and when he finally spoke the words were carefully measured. “It’s my brother’s birthday,” he stated. “January 24th is his birthday. August 7th is the day he died.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Riley said. August 7th had been the day Sam keyed Richardson’s car.

“It’s been four years. I should be able to handle it better by now,” Sam said, sounding angry with himself. “But it wasn’t fucking fair. Dean should still be here.”

“He should,” Riley agreed.

“He’s still my big brother, right?” Sam asked. “I’m a couple months older than Dean was when he died, but that doesn’t change anything, right?”

“Dean’s your big brother no matter what,” Officer Riley assured him, hoping he’d say the right thing. “No matter how much time passes.

“I kinda… imagine what he’d be like sometimes,” Sam confessed. “He’d be tall and cool and wear a leather jacket like Dad. Dad always said that Dean would get the car when he was old enough to drive, so he’d have that by now. And then he could drive us to school, and I wouldn’t have to ride the bus or walk any more. Today he’d turn eighteen, and then we wouldn’t have to live with Dad any more. He could take me, and we’d just travel around and go see the Grand Canyon and Hollywood and…” Sam got quiet. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?

“No,” Officer Riley said. “I think it’s nice.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long time, and they just sat together and watched people walking by. “Do you know why I’m in foster care?” Sam finally asked. Riley shook his head. “My dad was abusive. And neglectful. And he parentified my brother. The CPS ladies and the lawyers and the doctors had a lot of words for what he did to Dean, but he never laid a hand on me.”

“Is that how Dean died?” Riley asked softly.

“Nah,” Sam answered, clearing his throat. “Dad didn’t beat him to death. He needed Dean around too much for that, so he was careful. Except when he got drunk or real mad. He’d take off sometimes—take the Impala and go get drunk and fuck some bimbo out of town. Sometimes Dean and I didn’t have enough food. Dean got caught stealing, and the cops called Dad.”

Sam’s hatred of cops was starting to make more sense.

“Dad broke Dean’s arm, and the bone popped right through the skin for a second,” Sam said, his voice taking on a rambling tone. “The bone went back in, so Dean said it would be fine, but it wasn’t and it got infected and Dean died.” The thirteen year old glanced over from where he’d been staring at the street. His eyes were glassy and wet. “Broken arms aren’t supposed to kill people.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, kid.”

“If that cop had just let him off with a warning, Dean would still be alive,” Sam said. “If he hadn’t called Dad, I’d still have my brother. He should of… Dean was stealing peanut butter and bread. Cops are supposed to know when something’s wrong. Thirteen year olds aren’t supposed to die over a sandwich.”

“Something should have been done for Dean,” Riley agreed. “Someone should have known something was wrong and helped him.”

Sam put his head down on his lap. “He died awful,” Sam sobbed. “He was in so much fucking pain. I should have done something. I could have called 911, but Dean kept telling me it was going to be fine, and Dad always told us that we weren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves and-”

“Sam, you were nine,” Riley interrupted as soon as he had done the math. “Nine year olds aren’t supposed to have to deal with that. I’m so sorry it happened, but it’s not your fault that you didn’t know what to do.”

The thirteen year old got quiet for a while after that. “I should be getting home,” he finally said, wiping his eyes and standing up. “Unless you’re going to arrest me, that is.”

“I think I can let it slide just this once,” Officer Riley said lightly, smiling a little to show he was kidding around. “But no more fighting, Sam. You’re a smart kid. The best thing you can do is buckle down in school and keep yourself out of trouble. When you turn eighteen, college can take you anywhere you want. I know you’re smart enough for it.”

“Okay,” Sam said with a nod. “Thanks.” He hesitated a little and scuffed his sneakers on the curb before continuing. “Listen, uh… I still don’t really like cops, but… You’re alright.”

The police officer smiled. “Thanks, kid. Now get on home.”

Sam Winchester ducked his head and disappeared down the street. Officer Riley didn’t see him again.


End file.
